Demenomancy
by Adari
Summary: Fudge thought it was Christmas come early. Dumbledore thought it was the death of the Magical World. No one was prepared for what the future really brought. Beginning is a bit messy due to murder.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue:**

He'd just been sitting there when they arrived, covered in blood and smiling a gentle, far away smile which reminded a few of the really old hands of the capture of Sirius Black. Not that the gentle, far away smile was in any way comparable to Black's near hysterical laughter. It was the sheer wrongness, the unearthliness of the expression which was reminiscent.

"Mr Potter?" Strike knelt next to the boy and gently touched one blood-soaked shoulder.

"The aurors will then arrive." Potter's voice was as distant as his expression. "Never before the death...but always immediately after the death. Never when they might help, always just after it ceases to matter. Sirius told me that they'd never show up until there was death and he was so right."

"Mr Potter, what happened?" Strike was starting to feel very uneasy indeed, and half a glance told him that the entire team felt the same thing.

"They died." Potter's smile was truely beautiful and totally unearthly. "They gave so much pain...but they just died when faced with pain themselves...I had to, Aunt Petunia never did like blood on the carpet."

"Well, there's plenty of it now." The comment came from somewhere behind and Strike couldn't bring himself to issue reprimand. The carpet was sodden with blood. The viscous fluid was everywhere and dripping sullenly through the furniture.

"Scene recorded?"

"Yes sir."

"Get a clean-up team here then...we'd best get this boy over to the ministry." Strike briefly scanned the boy, and was not surprised to get back a report that the boy had no active magic on him. They already knew from the house wards that only Potter and his relatives had passed the wards in the past three days...or to be accurate, the relatives had been in and out regularly, Potter had arrived three days previously and hadn't shown up as passing the wards since.

"Think he'll get out of Azkaban on an insanity plea?" The query came from one of the newest team members.

"Not with the Diggory death so unclear." Strike had stunned the boy before he got to his feet. "Might have if it was just this case...but with a wizarding death to his name? He'll have to be innocent to not end up in Azkaban."

"Nothing in evidence which might prove him to be a victim." The report came in a rather flat tone.

"I would have been surprised if you had found something." Strike checked the boy's degree of unconsciousness before attaching the portkey. "Report?"

"Cut and dried, sir."

"Fudge will have a field day with this." Strike hesitated briefly, then shrugged and moved out. He had a feeling that the wizarding world were not going to take kindly to Potter's fall from grace. He made a note to himself to suggest to Bones that it might be adviseable to remind everyone the importance of professional behaviour...probably be important to make sure the boy's roster of guards was policed.

**XXXXXX**

"Does anyone think they have some good news for me?" The query chilled the massed forms to the bone. Did their Lord want some good news? Did their Lord think that one of them had done something against orders? It was a deadly uncertainty.

"M-my Lord?" The daring soul was Wormtail, and not for the first time Snape found himself wondering whether the Sorting Hat couldn't actually determine the difference between courage and pure stupidity. There were enough times when he wondered whether the hat was unable to determine the difference between ambition and ego.

"You have good news, Wormtail?" The Dark Lord's question slid across the room with a deadly softness.

"No, My Lord." Wormtail cowered back among the black robes.

"Ssomeone has been unforgiveably foolish." Voldemort seemed inordinately interested in his fingers. "When I find out who framed the Potter Boy, they are going to regret ever being born." The words hung in the air for a long moment.

"Potter?" The shocked and injudicious query came from somewhere on the left and no one even twitched as the curse flew from the Dark Lord.

"My Lord." Lucius Malfoy had waited patiently for the curse to end and for Voldemort to relax before he stepped forward and knelt.

"Malfoy?"

"Permission to depart for the Ministry." It went unspoken that the blond was concerned that Fudge may have unforgiveably committed political suicide in his determination to silence the Potter boy.

"Go." There was a pause until Malfoy had finished his departure and the doors had closed. "Sseverus?"

"My Lord?" Snape had quickly stepped forward and knelt.

"Go, find out what the Headmaster intends to do."

"My Lord...if he asks me?"

"Tell him the truth, I will deal with the person who did this." This was a pronouncement which worried all, for it was the habit of the Dark Lord to punish all for any crime and the Dark Lord did not sound anything but homicidal at the present moment.

**XXXXXX**

"You were too quiet." It was a rather dogmatic statement which drew Snape's attention away from his reverie.

"Mm?" Snape looked up and blinked, Black had settled into the chair across from him and folded his arms.

"A meeting which practically begged you on hands and knees to snark and snipe...and you didn't even sneer. What was so interesting?"

"They consider themselves to be the 'light', the 'good' guys." Snape fell silent a moment. "I do not envy Potter at all."

"Why?"

"First I'm going to ask why you're simply talking to me?"

"For the terribly simple reason that you're the only person here who has not inspired me with a deep desire to murder them." Black rubbed his face with a tired hand. "He can't have, he's the Boy-Who-Lived." It was a squeaky imitation of what too many horrified voice had said during the meeting. "Even his friends are basing their defence off his reputation. Did you hear even one person say, Harry wouldn't have done that...or at least not without justifiable cause?"

"You believe him capable of murder?" Snape studied Black curiously.

"Everyone is capable of murder, it's just a question of finding the right trigger." Black studied Snape for a long and silent moment. "I know Harry is capable of murder...if he'd had his way I would have been dead long before you came through that door."

"What saved you?"

"Cat...Harry's not blind enough to sacrifice the innocent just to achieve his goal...I had a cat sitting on me and Harry hadn't the finesse to know he could get me without taking the cat as well." Black gave a shrug. "Harry hesitated because of the cat and Remus entered before he managed to dislodge said cat. Chaos ensued and Harry realised that the matter wasn't clear, even if it was the truth, which it wasn't. Hence, I know Harry's capable of murder, provided you find the right trigger...so, why don't you envy Harry?"

"Because you are the only person who does not see him via rose-coloured glasses of fame and hysteria." Snape gave a slight shake of his head. "One person in an entire society...even Dumbledore never forgets, for all his 'I'm you're favourite grandfather' behaviour."

"Can I ask...is there even a hint that this might have been a plot by his nastiness?"

"No." Snape watched Black's expression fall and then counted to ten within his skull before reopening his mouth. "It is, however, his nastiness' stated intention to deal with whoever framed Potter...and no one ever survives being dealt with."

"Someone framed Harry for murder...and it wasn't with his approval?"

"We know Harry has a mental connection to his nastiness...we also know that Harry has a spectacularly bad response to dementors...use your head."

"He's getting nightmares from Harry?" Black's brows headed up fast.

"No, but he's getting a good dose of depression down the link."

"That's not a good thing?" Black seemed more than a little intrigued.

"No...put it this way, Black, if he doesn't figure a way around this depression soon he's going to simply kill his way through the population."

"How...surely Harry's not in Azkaban already?"

"He's at the Ministry under dementor guard...and his nastiness is cursing a up a storm that he's not in a position to raid the ministry."

"Good luck, Snape...sounds like you'll need it."

"I do." Snape's expression was grim as he pushed to his feet and stormed off, leaving Sirius Black to try and figure out all that had, and hadn't, been said.

**XXXXXX**


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Demenomancy is not a spelling error. Quite intentional and explained in chapter 2.

**CHAPTER 1:**

"Professor Dumbledore, sir?" The children had attached themselves in a rather limpet like manner to the small group of adults which had come through the door.

"Where's Black?" Dumbledore temporarily ignored their quest for information, he had more pertinent worries.

"Here, Dumbledore." Black emerged from the library with a book hanging from one rather lax hand. "I'm leaving tonight."

"What?" The horrified yell came from all sides.

"You're free to continue using the house." Black pulled a bag from somewhere behind the door and shoved a book into it. "A few rooms will close with my absence, but I've already checked and verified that they're cleared of anything useful to you."

"Sirius..." Molly Weasley seemed on the verge of tears.

"It's safer for everyone if I go." Black added a couple more books which he seemed to have left where ever the bag had previously been left. "I'll probably drift around the continent...I'll report back if I hear anything relevent...got a few places which will let me in on the strength I'm a Black on the bad side of the Ministry, I'll see what's happening about."

"But..." Dumbledore sighed. "There was nothing we could have done, Sirius."

"If I thought there was something you could have done I would not simply be clearing out." Something dangerous flickered deep down in Black's eyes.

"But..."

"Every moment I spend in this country increases the risk of me getting found. In this country I can do absolutely nothing but sit around, do some book research which I'm useless at and cook...which I'm even worse at. In this country I am going to be reminded very regularly that my godson is rotting in a hell I'm all too familiar with. Out of this country...for the most part they couldn't care less what I may have done here, they have no dementors and there is a lot of work I can do which will be of value to you."

"How...?" Dumbledore was frowning.

"Wizarding wireless has yet to shut up on the topic." Black gave a shrug. "That and I asked Kingsley for the details last night and he was kind enough to tell me. I'm not stupid, nothing was going to save Harry from Azkaban, not with his plea of guilty on all counts. Perhaps if the Diggory mess had been fully investigated instead of being hushed up as much as possible you might have wrangled a miracle on the strength of his status...as things stand though Harry hadn't a hope."

"I..." Whatever Dumbledore had been going to say was lost in the ear-shattering crack of dual apparition. Snape appeared his usual self, but Shacklebolt was on the verge of some sort of fit. "Kingsley?"

"Pettigrew." It was Snape who answered curtly. "The rat turned himself in under someone's imperius with a written confession for the Potter Deaths, the framing of Sirius Black and the death of Cedric Diggory. Closed door trial, but Bones has already signed off on Black's release and full pardon."

"Harry?" The question seemed to burst from every throat.

"Black...not joining the chorus?" Snape gave a faint sneer.

"Fudge has a conviction, he will not allow the case to re-open." Black paused for a moment. "I doubt even Malfoy can sweeten the deal sufficiently that Fudge will release this silencing."

"So do I." Snape glanced briefly around. "Potter's bound for Azkaban...probably there by now if I know Fudge."

"But..." Hermione seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"Harry Potter was sentanced to Azkaban for murdering his muggle relatives with a carving knife." Kingsley's tone was grim. "That a plea of temporary insanity might have been accepted if Diggory hadn't died, it doesn't change the fact that he was sentanced to Azkaban for killing the Dursleys. There's no reason to reopen the case."

"Snape." Black spoke rather abruptly.

"Black?" Snape lifted an eyebrow.

"What is the Dark Lord planning to do?"

"Apart from his stated intention to cause the person who framed Potter to regret their birth...I actually have no idea." Snape gave a shrug.

"Does he know how it occured?"

"Not that he's mentioned yet." Snape scowled. "The fact that the evidence irrefutably shows that Potter lost it and murdered the muggles, yet the whole lot of you are willing to believe the Dark Lord that it's a framing...even though Potter plead guilty on all counts under veritaserum."

"I have never even implied Harry's innocence." Black gave a snort. "I simply say it can't be a simple as him losing it or the Dark Lord wouldn't be so certain it was a frame-up...I just want to hear from Harry what the heck happened."

"Well you can't." Shacklebolt was not happy.

"I gathered I couldn't...cleared or not, I don't see them opening Harry up for visitors." Black seemed to ponder the contents of his bag before he suddenly looked up at Snape. "Tell his scaliness that I want a bite." Black threw two more books into his bag before he closed it, shrunk it and pocketed it.

"Sirius?" Dumbledore seemed confused.

"Right now only one thing has changed, and that is my status within the ministry...no one is going to trust me, no matter how loudly the ministry cry my innocence...and the ministry will cry my innocence very softly indeed."

"You want a bite of whoever the Dark Lord fixes on and I promise that you better not leave the country." Snape's tone was curt. "Whoever is selected is going to survive a very short and excruciatingly painful time."

"Fine." Black pulled a book from his bag. "If I don't leave then I'm going to remind the Ministry of just why the House of Black is the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black...and respected by all in any war." With that Sirius Black stalked back into the library and slammed the door behind him. Albus Dumbledore seemed almost concerned, for only he truly remembered the power that was the House of Black before the rise of the Dark Lord and the death of most of their number.

**XXXXXX**

"What fools!" Voldemort was on his feet and stalking from the room, leaving a very bewildered collection of Death Eaters behind him. There had been a general expectation of cursing since as a collective they'd just announced an utter failure, so bewildered was rather like saying that a monsoon was damp. It didn't take long for them to decide to make themselves scarce, something had distracted the Dark Lord and none of them were too keen on hanging around to let the Dark Lord remember about them and their abject failure.

"Merlin...surely you're not thinking of going to see him?" One of the collection had paused to gape at a swirling Snape who very clearly was headed for the Dark Lord's Chamber.

"I have every intention of seeing him." The reply was arctic.

"He's furious right now."

"He'll be markedly more furious if I don't show face when he requested my presence." Snape swirled on, watched by the wide-eyed collection who dreamed of being able to face the Dark Lord with such calm composure.

"I am surrounded by morons." Voldemort had been scowling out the window when Snape had arrived and taken his position.

"I promise you, my Lord, that there isn't a single moron within this room."

"Thankyou for that reassurance, Severus." Voldemort returned to his seat. "I have decided that my goals have changed."

"Because they're sending Potter to Azkaban?"

"Sent, Potions master." Voldemort scowled at some invisible point on the back wall.

"No wonder you're changing your goals." Snape shifted an eyebrow. Potter was undoubtedly catatonic by now and there was no glory in defeating the catatonic. Voldemort's quixotic bent was what made his research avenues truly interesting.

"Your oath as a potion's master that you know nothing of how Potter was caught."

"I'm willing to swear it on my life and magic, my Lord, I have heard, seen and known absolutely nothing but what is in the papers and common gossip...though if I were to go looking for the perpetrators, I would not expect to find them in the distant satellites."

"My thanks, Severus...and see what you can find out from the school, it won't be the first time in history that a government destroys what it has decided it cannot control. You may depart now." The dismissal was clear and Snape made tracks, he'd left his written report on the current progress of his research, but both of them ignored it, it was for those who did not understand research and thought only of power and money.

**XXXXXX**

Harry James Potter had had many expectations of waking up in Azkaban, but a comfortable library with tonnes of books, a nice woodfire and a subtle Slytherin motif had not been on the list anywhere. He'd actually been thankful when they'd stunned him in the courtroom, he didn't like waiting and being unconscious ensured he'd have no issues with anticipation. Now, however, he was beginning to think that unconsciousness might not have been a good thing. Harry Potter was not a fan of strange libraries, no matter how comfortable the chairs were. They'd sentanced him to Azkaban and a portion of his mind was rather miffed that they'd apparently repented on their sentance after they'd knocked him out. The least they might have done was let him know that they weren't sending him to Azkaban afterall. Harry considered demanding Azkaban for a couple of seconds before he settled down in one of the chairs, curled up and fell asleep. Temporary insanity aside he was not going to waste a second of sleeping without his mother screaming in his mind. There were dementors in Azkaban and they were very bad news for his mind.

**XXXXXX**

Hermione Granger was confused and uncertain. The information was cut and dried. Harry Potter had confessed to three murders. Harry Potter had tested clean of any spells, compulsions or potions. No one but Harry and the three Dursleys had been on the premises within twenty-four hours. Harry Potter had not even attempted to even imply that he was innocent of the murder charge, and yet both Dumbledore and Voldemort apparently considered Harry to be a framed innocent...or at least that was what Hermione understood from the conflicting talk which wallowed around Grimauld Place. How could you plead guilty and yet be a framed innocent?

**XXXXXX**


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 2:**

"Harry Potter is in Azkaban." Snape spoke in a rather clipped tone and promptly rolled his eyes at the predictable wail which came in response to his words. It wasn't the first time this matter had been mentioned and it wasn't the first wail by a long-shot, at least this time the babblings about Potter's innocence were unintelligible. Was Snape happy Potter was in Azkaban, not at all...considering the Dark Lord stood firm by stating the boy had been framed. Was Potter innocent? Not a thought Snape cared to spend time on. Snape scowled darkly until at least a modicum of silence was regained in the room. "The Dark Lord has been through the minds of two thirds of the Death Eaters now in search of the perpetrator...and as a result six have ended up in St Mungoes, residents of the long-term spell-damage ward. No information yet on who framed Potter." Snape paused for a moment. "Lucius Malfoy reports that Potter is catatonic already...I have reason to suspect that the Dark Lord thinks otherwise since he is simply amused by the reports...I would tentatively suggest that someone apply for permission to visit Potter in person."

"Voldemort has to be amused for some other reason." Kingsley spoke up grimly. "Potter's not conscious."

"How do you know that?" Snape's expression narrowed.

"We were called in less than a day after he'd arrived to fit the charms to his catatonic form." Kingsley gave a slight shrug. "He may be a prisoner, but the ministry have no intention of letting him starve to death...though he is losing weight fast."

"How do you know he's not conscious?" Snape's brow was wrinkling up.

"His core temperature is down by over a degree, his pulse-rate holds steady at thirty, and he shows no conscious brain activity...well, actually he has shown a couple periods of spiking brain activity, annomalous readings which cannot be explained."

"Thankyou." Snape stepped back and sat down, the last thing he'd considered mentioning remained unmentioned. He listened to the rest of the meeting rather disinterestedly and mulled over the information in his mind. When things wound up and everyone began preparing to eat, Snape excused himself and made tracks for the front door.

"Snape." It was Black's voice which stopped Snape just before he opened the front door. Snape pondered simply ignoring the man for a moment, but then shrugged and swung around.

"Black."

"A moment of your time, please." Black indicated a nearby room which Snape had never even noticed before.

"Interesting room." Snape had looked around the room speculatively, the room contained some decidedly macabre artefacts and a wall of books which bore titles applicable only to the necromantic arts. Molly Weasley would have applied a match if she knew the room existed.

"Family room, only exists if I have need of it."

"Well I'm not prepared to die so you can practice." Snape's tone was slightly snappy and for a moment Black's eyes narrowed before a faint smile slowly traced across the man's face.

"Damn and there was me so hopeful." Black dropped onto the floor and crossed his legs. "You left some information out during the meeting."

"Accusing me of betraying you?" Snape's face tightened.

"Merlin, no." Black gave a faint shiver. "We're sunk if you do a bunk on us...nope, must admit I was more surprised that you spilled all you did considering how chilly your audience were."

"Black." Snape shifted restlessly, his tone slightly warning.

"I'm head of the Black family...means quite a few of the Death Eaters are within my...care." Black had paused over his words a couple of times. "You said six ended up in Mungoes."

"Macnair and a Lestrange are probably your jurisdiction." Snape hesitated for a moment. "Macnair has no heir and all of the Lestranges are fugitives so you should be able to get both estates."

"Others won't be worth the effort?" Black lifted an eyebrow.

"Outer circle, young idiots trying to be something they're not."

"Dark Lord culling his flock?"

"I don't know." Snape shifted uneasily before glancing at Black. "Been a bit odd since Potter was taken captive...pretty certain it was his imperius which was holding Pettigrew. Malfoy admitted to having some decidedly odd orders...Dark Lord isn't undermining his power within the ministry...he does seem to be excising the nastier elements though."

"Goodluck." Black's expression was grim as he got back to his feet. "You might need it to survive this insanity."

"Insanity's this world, Black...and I always survive."

"Then continue, I think I'd lose it if the Headmaster's cheer wasn't diluted so frequently by your sour grapes."

"You lost it years ago, Black." Snape's expression twitched.

"Then maybe I'd have it if you weren't around." Black's expression was almost saintly as he opened the door.

"Merlin save us all." Snape actually gave a twisted half-grin before heading back into the hall and from there out the front door. It actually gave him some hope to think that someone had thought about the financial side of the Dark Lord's actions. Black's determination for his family seemed to be totally legitimate and worth a significant value.

**XXXXXX**

Harry Potter eventually became accustomed to the seeming anomaly whereby his cell in Azkaban reverted into a very comfortable library whenever Dementors came by. He liked to pretend that the library was real, not the cell...but even in his fanciest fancy he still knew that the library was not real. He wasn't even considering complaining, though some of the trips to the library were downright violent and left him with an aching brain for hours afterwards. He even had his nasty suspicions about who was behind his trips to the library, but he wasn't going to complain, not when he knew that the library was the only thing which stood between him and raving insanity. Sirius had Padfoot and his innocence to keep his sanity in check, Harry only had the library and he knew the vitality of the library for a fact since on two occasions he hadn't been pulled from Azkaban nearly fast enough. Those were the occasions when he'd been allowed to stay until the screams had finally faded to their usual muted whisper and he'd had to wipe the crusted blood from his face after he'd been returned to Azkaban. Sometimes Harry's mind wondered what the guards would have made of the blood, not that there was anyone to see it, his only guards were the dementors, and they certainly didn't notice anything so pointless as a couple tablespoons of blood lost. The library was comfortable and he'd even begun reading the books his 'host' left on the low table. At first his reading had been a trifle lacklustre, but halfway through the wierd book which rabitted on about the power of the mind Harry had realised that the book deserved far more from him for all its dusty appearance and intimidating thickness suggested. Harry had read the second half of the book and its two companions with a determination and attention he had never given to anything in his life...apart from staying alive and keeping from Dudley's pudgy paws. Harry had then gone back and re-read all three books from cover to cover. He might well be in Voldemort's brain, but if the Dark Lord was willing to give him a comfortable refuge from dementors and show him the tools to deal with aforementioned dementors than he most certainly was not going to ignore the offer. It wasn't like he had anything else to do other than go screamingly insane and get driven out of his mind...though thinking that made him realise that he was quite literally out of his mind for vast chunks of each day as it was. Lovely thought, now to find out whether his own 'library' could save him from dementors or whether it would simply give him the ability to get to the library when dementors came past rather than waiting for a sometimes rather rushed Dark Lord to come and grab him.

**XXXXXX**

"Albus!" Shacklebolt practically exploded into Headquarters, sending the umbrella rack scurrying and rousing Mrs Black to her vocal best.

"SHUT-UP!" Black came out of the hall to the library at a run, hovering several formidable legal tomes which he dropped in favour of muffling his mother once more. "Of all moronic things to do, that has to be the worst...the few things I can think of which are worse all classify as suicidal." Black clamped a hand over the curtains. "DON'T YELL IN THE HALL!" Black glared for a moment before something sparkled deep within his eyes and with a complete disregard for the gathering crowd he dropped his hold on the curtains, spelled a generous gash on his hand and then used the tip of his wand and the generous supply of blood to hastily inscribe a half dozen runes into the walls where they slowly sank out of sight. Black then smirked generally around the staring group before he grabbed his books and stormed back to the library.

"..." Molly Weasley had gone scarlet.

"..." Lupin gave a small shake of his head and carefully left the front hall.

"..." Shacklebolt blinked twice before he snapped his mouth shut and waved the crowd to the kitchen. "Much better." Shacklebolt sank into a seat. "Lupin, how long will that last?"

"Knowing Sirius, it's permanent." Lupin gave a rough chuckle and then jumped along with everyone else when a bright light flashed in the middle of the room.

"Doorbell, neat." Tonks was peering into the hallway by the time she finished her sentance. "What was all your hollering about?"

"Oh...news for Albus."

"Potter is definitely conscious." Snape arrived through the floo.

"How do you know?" Shacklebolt appeared peeved.

"Potions Master." Snape sneered at the Black Auror. "After almost a month of nutrition charms he needs some rather specialised potions to get him back on a solid diet." Snape gave a disgusted shake of his head and stalked out of the room, heading for the library.

"That's a fair reason for hollering, Shack." Tonks stepped aside to let Dumbledore and McGonagal into the room.

"What's with the front hall?" Dumbledore seemed politely curious as he settled into his usual chair.

"Black did some blood runes and Lupin says the silencing is permanent."

"Pity we didn't think of it months ago." Dumbledore gave a sigh. "Any particular news?"

"Potter's conscious, not speaking without being forced to speak...there's some uncertainty as to whether he is actually sane, but general concensus is to the negative."

"What's being done?"

"Nothing." Shacklebolt gave a shrug.

"Remus, how does the silencing in the hall work?" Dumbledore glanced at the were-wolf.

"From what I can see he drew the wards for a bubble of silence and then sank them back into the walls so they covered not only the hall, but also his mother...there's a bright flash over the table if someone opens the door."

"Thankyou...please ask Sirius if he will lift it."

"Highly unlikely, Headmaster." Lupin's mouth twitched. "He lives here, we don't and that portrait would get into anyone's head...I suspect he won't lift it even if you ordered him."

"He can't lift it." Snape had come back into the kitchen with several books in hand. "The hall is silenced until he dies...and then the heirs will be given the option to raise them again when they inherit."

"What's with the books?" Dumbledore didn't like books without visible titles and he saw no point in persuing the topic of the front hall.

"Research material...Black parted with them because I promised to put a little help in Potter's Potions." Snape shook his head and disappeared through the floo.

"Why is Snape even doing potions for Azkaban?" Jones' expression was displeased. "Who knows." Lupin's tone was dry. "Might have something to do with him being the premiere potions master in the country and the fact that the prisoner in question is Harry Potter, who the Minister is hell-bent on keeping in Azkaban now he's got him there. If you don't mind, I need to be going." Lupin resisted the temptation to floo after Snape, never disturb the man when he has new researh to read, and settled for dodging through the hall and down to the library, where Black was sprawled on the floor with half a dozen books spread around him.

"Moony." The wave of greeting was cheerful. "Like silence?"

"It's very silent." Lupin settled in a nearby chair and glanced into the nearest book. "Why does your family library have the laws of Azkaban and prisoner handling?"

"No idea, but the fact that all of them are dated 1982 I consider a pointed hint...though I'll have to visit the ministry to find out why my father didn't succeed in springing me." Black banged his thumbs together before he spun around. "Snape gone?"

"He's got new books of research...I doubt anything short of a natural disaster would have kept him here." Lupin gave a soft huff. "How's your own research going?"

"I've developed an even greater hatred of law, a bit of a headache and discovered that any appeals will require the Minister's signature."

"So Dumbledore is doomed to fail...anything promising?"

"Not yet." Black glanced across the spread of books. "Not yet, but I've a feeling I've forgotten something important which will be very promising...assuming I manage to remember it." Black turned over a couple of pages and gave another huff before he settled down to more reading.

**XXXXXX**

Lord Voldemort stared down at the crumpled mess which had been the mortal coil of Bellatrix Black Lestrange. It had taken Legilimency to verify that she'd been behind the framing of Potter. Not that it had even been a conscious framing. There had been no proof of her actions and she was too mad to get an admissable veritaserum confession from. Though Voldemort had sworn to make the perpetrator rue the day they'd been born, he'd simply cursed her when he'd got the confirmation from her unstable mind. It was so...depressingly stupid. Now, though, he was not certain what he was going to do. He knew that he was copping depression from Potter, but that didn't change the fact that he hated waste and it didnt matter which direction he looked, at his own people, or the rest of the wizarding world, he saw obscene amounts of waste. What was he going to do? Potter had been in Azkaban for two months now and Voldemort was dissatisfied with how things were going. That was definitely something he could turn his attention to. Perhaps it was time for him to become a little more proactive.

**XXXXXX**

Sirius Black had not really thought twice about the letter which had arrived. He got a lot of mail these days, mostly unsolicited, but some of it came because he'd actually sent a letter out. He'd scanned it for magic. Nothing. He'd put it aside for half a day in favour of dealing with a knotty issue which had arisen over the Macnair vaults. He'd scanned the letter a second time for magic. It wasn't paranoia, just practice. He'd finally opened it and read over what proved to be a politely worded request for help with a research project relating to wizarding law. The tendered scale of pay was not insignificant and the subject material potentially interesting. It had been after a long moment of thought that Sirius had responded with his interest in the topic and a query on why him. The response had come back with the baldly stated fact that there were sections of wizarding law which was only accessible to purebloods...to the point that to be given access you required a certificate of purity from Gringotts. Sirius had accepted the job and the next thing he'd known was a three owl deputation of shrunken books, prior research and a letter of note giving him access to the Malfoy, Nott and Parkinson libraries. The author had noted, rather dryly, that he suspected that Sirius would have some idea on how to get near the Black library. Sirius had got busy reviewing what he'd been sent. He noted that the research was very definitely focussed on the Potter case and any relevent information for overturning the original decision, or at the very least forcing a reassessment of the sentance. Sirius had pondered what he'd learnt from the supplied information before he got busy again and eventually sent a tentative outline of his projected research intentions. The reply had been prompt and very satisfying indeed. After two efforts to mention this other party interested in the Potter case to Dumbledore, and wearing some amazing snubs which made it more than a little obvious that Dumbledore was only interested in Dumbledore releasing the oppressed Mr Potter, Sirius had got to work on the project which gave so much clarity to his own efforts to figure out a way to spring Harry. Sirius had his own thoughts on who was at the other end of his exchange and he felt no compulsion to allow his brain to open that particular can of worms...it held promise of being a veritable Pandora's Box and the Order of the Phoenix were all too likely to forget that among all the horrors of Pandora's Box, there had been something which the world desperately needed. So Sirius had gone to work, ignoring all others for the most part, but occasionally seconding the aide of Remus Lupin when he needed to access too many books simultaneously to keep things straight...never let it be said that Sirius Black didn't know how to force a wage upon his friend.

**XXXXXX**

Harry James Potter, four month resident of Azkaban, frowned as he felt yet again a bizarre pulling on the edge of his mind. Until four months ago he'd cursed the connection he had to the Dark Lord. Two months ago he'd sworn black and blue a long list of the ghastly things he would do should he ever meet Voldemort face to face...entirely because the fiend had found a way to monitor Harry's activities and enforce an exercise regime. Today Harry knew that the only reason he was even vaguely close to sane was because of that alien presence in his own skull. That was a bizarre thought, to be sane because you shared your skull with another...go figure, maybe he was insane afterall.

The first book Harry had chosen to read for himself within the library had been a rather chatty history of the wandless arts. He'd found that book at the end of the first month when he found himself in the library without any books off the shelf. Then had come a far more forbidding tome...which was also a history of the wandless arts. Harry had then gone back and re-read the three books of the mind-arts. Harry could actually survive a visit by the dementors these days, he wasn't fond of it and almost invariably he retreated to the library, but a couple of times he'd set his teeth and toughed it out...usually to prove to himself that he could actually survive if something did happen to his library. The first time he'd toughed out a dementor visit had not been voluntary, he'd been stupid enough to play fool in the library because he'd been a bit bored. The library was free for use after he'd got the hang of occlumency. Mucking around was a fast trip back to Azkaban as he'd discovered and also lead to the discovery that apparently he could be locked out of the library. Harry had spent many hours figuring out how to lock his own 'library', which wasn't anything of the sort, and though he didn't bother locking it, it was nice to know that he could. It was the tugging feeling which almost always drove him to toughing it out with the dementors. Something was shifting within the Dark Lord and Harry was more than a little afraid that someone had figured out how to kill the man and he was going to be summarily deprived of the only company he had. Though it might be argued that a library wasn't company.

It had only been a month ago when Tom had apparently decided to take effect on Harry's staid taste in books, not saying that he hadn't done things already, but divination texts did not count. Harry had arrived one day to find three Enid Blyton's stacked on the table with a garish sticky-note instructing him to read. Harry had spent a delightful afternoon exploring an island, a farm and getting involved with a circus...and dealing with the associated crooks who were apparently obliged to tie everyone up. Harry had been tempted to ask if Tom had been taking notes but decided such a move would be tempting fate, the man didn't have much of a sense of humour. Since that day Harry had cheerful made his way through a variety of books he'd seen others read but never dared to touch himself. The frivolous part of this library was well hidden, but fairly well stocked and Harry had gone to town. All of the books were muggle and all of them were very dusty. Harry had kept his mouth firmly shut about both points but left his own sticky note asking for access to more if possible, please...that had been after he figured out how to produce a sticky note and pencil. He got one new frivolous book a week and he knew what to do with them once he'd finished reading them. He'd never stopped his more serious reading, but he'd always made a bit of a point about avoiding wand subjects, and anything that reminded him too strongly of what he couldn't do, and that limitted his topics somewhat severely.

History of Magic had been Harry's initial field of study, it was safe, it carried no real taste of what he couldn't do...though he had considered doing a bit of herbology to identify the mold in his cell. It had probably taken him a week, but he'd branched off into a second line of study during a fit of humour and Harry's study of divination had torn through Voldemort's stock of the books in two days and he knew them to be no more or less than the required texts for Hogwarts. The next day Harry had been startled to find a stack of books in the middle of the library with a green sticky note 'please read and shelve appropriately'. The books had to be very close to every divination book in existence. It had taken Harry almost a month to read through the pile, at which point he'd commenced his study of Demenomancy when stuck consciously in Azkaban and begun the tentative notes for a definitive text on Demenomancy...he'd considered calling it Dementomancy, but that was a little too close to implied insanity for him and Demenomancy had nice undertones of demonology to make it sound dangerous as opposed to simply daft. He'd once left a sticky note in the library by accident and he'd come back later to find it neatly stuck to one wall with three other sticky notes of quite decent relevence for company. After that Harry had taken the hint and left all of his notes neatly stuck to the wall and it was fortunate that the patch of wall was all too willing to adjust for the ever expanding number of notes. Tom usually used green sticky notes. Harry made a point of using rather painfully red notes which he covered with gold ink.

Harry had noted that the dementors started to keep their distance a bit after he'd begun offering to read their futures from the flutter of their tatty robes. Infact one of the dementors he hadn't seen since he'd speculatively begun attempting to read the pasts of the souls it had swallowed from the frost patterns which had formed on his cell bars. It was the only time he'd seen a nervous shuffle instead of an ominous drift. This though brought him back to his concern about the pulling at the edge of his mind. These pullings worried him because something told him they were some rather violent shifts in the other's soul. Harry didn't want anyone to kill the man and he most certainly did not want the other dying on him.

"Relax, Harry." The words seemed to settle into his brain.

"Tom?" Harry jumped, not just because of the surprise that the words caused him, but also the realisation that he thought of the other mind as Tom, not Voldemort, and he wasn't thinking of him as Tom in anything but a kindly meant way. Tom was a friend.

"I said relax." "Sorry." Harry began to breathe carefully, it was rather tricky to keep calm when his brain was being pulled around like that.

"Thankyou." Harry found himself pulled inwards to the Quidditch pitch which was the centre of his occlumency.

"Quidditch?" Tom was standing in the middle of the pitch with a curious frown.

"You look about sixty." Harry studied the man for a moment. "Infact you look rather as I'd have assumed you'd have looked if I'd only ever seen that first memory of yours."

"Thankyou." Tom gave a faint smile. "So nice to know that a busy month of reversing rituals and gathering up the bits of my soul have paid off at some level."

"You...but...wh..." Harry spluttered to a stop. "Is this why I've been thinking of you more often as Tom than Voldemort?"

"Possibly." Tom gave a shrug, handed Harry a broom before settling on his own broom and taking to the air with a quaffle in hand.

"Is the library..." Harry hesitated.

"Yes." Tom lobbed the quaffle across to Harry.

"Why?" Harry hesitated before he threw the quaffle back.

"Family." Tom had hesitated for a long moment while casting the quaffle from hand to hand. "I might kill you myself, but I'm certainly not going to sit back and let the ministry or dementors take you."

"Do family kill each other?"

"No idea...but there's plenty of historical precedent for the fact that they do."

"True." Harry looped his broom and flung the quaffle back. "Can you do this while awake?"

"Yes and no." Tom cursed softly as the quaffle got past him. "I'm not functional and interactive...but I'm not asleep either. I would probably hear if someone came into my study where I'm currently sitting."

"How many alarms would they set off before they could even enter the room?" Harry grunted and then grinned, he hadn't caught the quaffle but neither had it got past him.

"A lot." Tom had lifted a challenging eyebrow.

"So it's real." Harry stuck out the tip of his tongue before getting a firm grip on the quaffle and sending it back. "Is this going to do anything for me?"

"It might reduce the degree of atrophy...I'm guessing we're both twitching a bit where we sit. Though I already know that you're fine." Tom had paused to consider the matter. "Challenge your mind and body while in that cell. We will get you out of there, Harry...and you don't want to be too messed up."

"Why can't I just stay in here?" Harry nearly dropped the quaffle Tom had abruptly flung at him.

"Harry, do you think you would ever venture forth to the real world if you did spend all the time in your head?"

"Oh." Harry stared down at the quaffle which he held. It was comfortable here, nothing to worry about. No ministry...no dementors.

"We are not busting our guts to get you out just so you can sulk in your own skull for the rest of your life." Tom had abruptly swooped in and stolen the quaffle from Harry.

"Oi!" Harry dove after the man, conversation suspended as the tustle for the quaffle developed.

**XXXXXX**


	4. Chapter 4

I'm terribly sorry, but the title, Demenomancy, was nothing more or less than a case of not knowing what to call it...other than 'Daftness' and Demenomancy seemed to fit the bill since it was the result of daftness. I don't think it gets any more than the most oblique of reference between now and the end.

**Chapter 3:**

"My Lord?" Snape eyed the desk with some trepidation, it was so heavily laden that its demise seemed imminent and its construction was not flimsy.

"Mr Black is nothing but thorough." Voldemort handed across a single page.

"What's the rest of it?" Snape scanned the page and recognised it as a brief summary of just how hopeless the Potter case was in current magical law.

"The rest of it is the research which supports that summary." Voldemort took the page back and then settled into a nearby seat. "Black sent it so I could judge his conclusions if I so chose."

"Black never struck me as the thorough sort." Snape began cautiously inspecting the piles of research.

"Severus, it was your passion for potions which prevented you from become a pre-eminent master of the Dark Arts and their Defence." Voldemort's tone was vaguely reproving. "Lucius concedes to your view whenever you enter a debate and has ever since you joined us...that Black successfully hexed, cursed and jinxed you for seven years says he is very thorough indeed when he puts his mind to it...I suggest you take their torment as a compliment that you were so damn hard to get."

"I would prefer they had ignored me."

"Don't we all, but they didn't and nothing can change that...Black will be a very valuable ally...do tell him that Potter sends 'Hello Paddy, got any decorating suggestions?'."

"I will not become a message service."

"I assure you that even that message wouldn't have been relayed but for the question...Potter wants to know if Black found any weaknesses other than the animagus thing."

"Potter planning to break out?" Snape was suspicious.

"Nothing so useful...he's found a way to freak out the dementors on a one to one basis and he's plotting to expand the effect so they leave him alone."

"Potter fan, My Lord?" Snape didn't quite bite back the sneer in time.

"Eight months ago I would have killed you for opening your mouth." Voldemort's tone was pensive. "Six months ago I would have made you scream a bit before dismissing you...now, I feel only fatigue that the wizarding world is so petty...not that any other world is better." Voldemort was silent for a very long moment. "Mm."

"My Lord?"

"Just a thought which occured to me." Voldemort's wave was dismissive. "The Headmaster has another appeal yet pending...but it's safe to say it will fail."

"Black's research?"

"Precisely." Voldemort's closed his eyes and rubbed his face before letting out a long huff. "Go away, Severus, the brat needs back-up with this many dementors around."

"My Lord." Snape made himself scarce, they'd discussed an interesting potions idea earlier and Snape was more than a little keen to find out if the initial premise was in anyway achievable...the fact that it was a medically legal way to torture a were-wolf was merely a bonus. The fact that he hadn't been cursed for a wildly inappropriate comment was not a thought he cared to inspect, the Dark Lord was whimsical and quixotic and that was excuse enough!

**XXXXXX**

"Well." Albus Dumbledore dropped into his usual chair with a rather tired sigh. "That's all our legal avenues exhausted."

"You're quitting?"

"Of course not, Sirius." Dumbledore almost managed his usual twinkle. "I'm just saying that I am aware of no other action we can take...and to be quite honest I'm tired of trying to concentrate on arguing with Fudge's idiocies when there's a Dark Lord whose very existance is denied sitting at the back of the courtroom taking notes and occasionally helping."

"Never managed to do anything but clarify the idiocy of the ministry's argument, though." Shacklebolt spoke rather curtly. "Short of assassinating Fudge I see no options but to continue fighting the war and hoping that someday the perpetrator is caught."

"That won't happen." Snape spoke bluntly from his usual corner. "Lestrange did it and she was too unstable. Even under veritaserum the confession was inadmissable...too much material for the defence. The Dark Lord handed out the fate he has to many and that's the end of it."

"What about my bite?" Black's scowl was rather impressive.

"Eight for the scowl and you'll have to go after the Dark Lord yourself if you want an appology, Black."

"Bloody, Dark Lord." Black slumped down to mutter and curse. Pity the Dark Lord didn't go in for leaving corpses around, Bella would have been good practice for some of those necromancy spells he'd found the other day.

"What did she do?" Lupin was looking more than a trifle curious.

"You're not going to like it." Snape glanced around the table and tried to think of a way to give this information.

"Severus, how long have you known?" Albus was looking grave.

"Couple of weeks." Snape gave a shrug. "Nothing of relevence to anything, not going to affect things...I've reason to believe the Dark Lord has known for months, but not cared to mention it for the same reason."

"He only knew and hasn't been been making her rue?" Black's expression was dark.

"She's been dead for months, Black...and she undoubtedly rued her birth given that her beloved Dark Lord simply cursed her and stalked out of the room, too depressed and uncaring to make game of her."

"What did she do?" Lupin enunciated his words carefully. "We deserve to know what happened that Harry ended up in Azkaban."

"Potter's in Azkaban because our legal system is useless, our ministry even worse, and there's no one with half a spine willing to speak up."

"Severus?" Dumbledore sounded more than a little reproving, not really surprising since he'd been trying to free Harry for months.

"Headmaster, has anyone asked why Potter pled guilty on all charges? He was asked if he had killed his relatives, and he replied in the affirmative. He was asked if he regretted their deaths and he replied with a negative...there's something in the case which is unknown and only Potter can answer, but he won't because he's in Azkaban, decidedly less than sane, and though there was other evidence, it's long since lost."

"Severus." The reprimand was verging into the clearly audible.

"Potter killed his relatives without regret because they were begging him to kill them."

"Even muggles don't beg for death." Shacklebolt sounded decidedly disgusted.

"They do when they've been cursed, realise they've been cursed and are slowly killing themselves because of the aforementioned curse." Snape gave a snort and got to his feet. "Our Aurors who don't even bother to check dead muggles for curse residue when recording a scene. Our Minister so hell-bent on discrediting and destroying a fifteen year-old that he'll prevent further investigation when the case is in a nice, clean form...and our law enforcement that let him. Also, don't forget the pathetic bleaters who never bothered to do anything but appeal on the strength that Potter is your blessed Boy-Who-Lived and apparently essential to ongoing peace and prosperity within the magical world...and just to make you feel happy, Belletrix was simply bored and found herself some muggles to test a new spell on. No special plot, no careful plan of unparallelled cunning. Just a bored witch who found herself some muggles to curse. If she'd picked any other collection of muggles to curse it wouldn't have even reached the DMLE and Potter would be parading around as his usual, infuriatingly arrogant self...but as Potter said: 'I had to, Aunt Petunia never did like blood on the carpet.' and they begged him to kill them before the curse destroyed them and made their death a parody of gore." Snape stormed out of the room and got out of the house, he had no wish to be delayed. Waste and stupidity, it was enough to drive anyone to sampling their own potions...though in this case he only wanted a headache potion and to avoid the Order of the Phoenix for a couple of days. Infact holing up in his lab under the heaviest wards for a week or two sounded absolutely brilliant.

**XXXXXX**

"Heh-heh-heh." Harry snickered under his breath as he listened to the tormented howls for further down the corridor. Wormtail, the unfaithful, was copping it big-time and making a wonderful definition for pathetic while he was at it. The thought of such torment for the spineless little worm...he was an insult to rats. "Heh-heh..." Harry gulped his snickers and dove into his sleeping space as he considered his thought. "Oh, Merlin." Harry settled down for a good stint of blankly staring at the nearest bit of wall. Was he going round the bend? To take pleasure in others suffering from pain. Maybe he did deserve Azkaban after all?

"Don't be idiotic, Potter...and also refrain from pointless and melodramatic behaviour." Tom's arrival was abrupt and rather a douche bath for paranoia.

"Tom?" Harry eyed the man uneasily.

"You're human, live with it." Tom inspected the sparse collection of books Harry had stacked around his sleeping space. "I'm sending you more books, this is unacceptable."

"How..." Harry hesitated, unable to think of how to phrase his question.

"Wormtail always gloated over the pain of others, you're merely amused that he can't take his own medicine." Tom scowled at Harry for a brief moment. "I promise you, you never howled half so much even when I was cursing you...let alone the undoubtedly half-arse effort of a guard who's had a gutful of his babbling."

"But..."

"Setting yourself up for martyrdom is tedious, Potter." Tom gave a sniff. "When you begin snickering while pulling the wings off flies, or because you're mashing beetles, or because you've made someone cry...then I will come and pound the stuffing out of you." Tom gave another sniff. "Honestly, setting yourself up for martyrdom over Wormtail's inability to take what he has dealt out."

"Could you do it?" Harry eyed the man curiously.

"I have a distinct absence of memories pertaining to degrading someone because they screamed under my curses." Tom gave another sniff and then frowned. "I consider it a matter of pride that no one could take my curses without losing composure...a nice reflection on my power, rather than their weakness." Tom departed with that final huff and Harry was left to inspect his own thoughts, which were confused, but no longer wracked by paranoia.

**XXXXXX**

"The Dark Lord's where?" Snape stared at Lucius Malfoy in complete confusion.

"A muggle library." Malfoy's tone was one of repressed patience. "He had to obliviate three people who'd seen me apparate in and he's a little peeved at me right now."

"The Dark Lord is in a muggle library and you're walking around while he's a little peeved at you?" Snape eyed his former friend with a degree of wonder. "How the hell does that work?"

"I have no idea." Malfoy gave a shrug. "I am not complaining though."

"No, I don't blame you." Snape turned back to check his potion which was simmering gently. "What sort of library?"

"What do you mean?"

"Muggles have all sorts of libraries. What sort of library was it?"

"No idea." Malfoy gave a shrug. "He was muttering about 'Due Process' when I departed though...if that means anything to your mind."

"Possibly a law library." Snape frowned. "What in Merlin's name is the Dark Lord doing in a muggle law library?"

"Do I look like I could answer that question?" Malfoy's sniff was one of pure outrage. "If he weren't the Dark Lord I'd shun him over this." More of a snort this time. "A muggle library." Malfoy stalked off leaving Snape to puzzle over such an odd bit of information. The Dark Lord had never shown much respect for magical law, and yet he was apparently cramming muggle law? Strange, to say the least, and Snape had no intention whatsoever of even admitting that Lucius might have even intimated the the Dark Lord was anywhere but his dark lair plotting evil. There was such a thing as too much information.

**XXXXXX**

"Are you certain?" Sirius Black stared at Arthur Weasley with some confusion.

"Madam Marchbanks was talking about it all day. They're terribly confused about how to manage the case because it's not like they can send..."

"Dad!" Ron screeched to a halt when he realised he'd interrupted a private conversation.

"Ron, Hermione?" Arthur looked enquiringly at the two.

"Mr Shacklebolt's been muttering about Harry. Is there any news?"

"Only a bit of bewildering news." Arthur gave a shrug. "Apparently Harry is registered for his OWLs...Marchbanks is a little perplexed at how to adjudicate the exams."

"OWLs?" Ron stared at his father in bewilderment and Hermione's expression was one of total horror.

"They actually expect him to sit OWLs?" Hermione blinked. "He didn't even sit his fourth year exams...how can they possibly think he'll pass OWLs? It's not fair."

"That's what has everyone talking." Arthur gave a faint shrug. "It was assumed to be a clerical error of oversight, but apparently Harry wasn't expelled from Hogwarts. He's listed as high risk for magic out of school and should he offend again will have to surrender his wand at the end of each school year...but he's still Hogwarts eligible and he personally has to submit to not sit the exams."

"But..." Hermione sagged slowly, there was literally nothing anyone could do. "He'll be expelled for failing his OWLs. He won't be allowed to ever carry a wand."

"Probably." Arthur gave a grimace, no doubt that was Fudge's objective in not protesting against Harry's right to sit the exams.

**XXXXXX**

Harry stared around himself at the soulless room he found himself in. White walls. Artificial lights. Harry quickly shuffled himself into a corner and closed his eyes. In less than a second he had Tom's attention.

"They said they were moving you to the Ministry for a couple of days so you could be assessed for OWLs."

"OWLs?" Harry tone was almost a despairing wail. Harry had given up his self-imposed restrictions on study eventually, but that did not mean he was even vaguely ready for OWLs, no matter how many books Tom had left out or how many sticky notes of scribble they had exchanged. Tom had infact even showed up occasionally to tutor him, but Harry had not encouraged it for the simple reason that Tom invariably looked dead on his feet and had to be sacrificing sleep to do it. Harry would prefer sticky notes to Tom dying.

"Relax, Harry, I think you may surprise yourself."

"But..." Harry stiffened that indefinable sense of something telling him he had company. "Got to go, bye." Harry opened his eyes to the soulless room again and blinked twice before he managed to bring his focus onto the dull witch who stood by the door.

"Potions, written." They were the first words he'd physically heard in almost a year and it took him a moment to understand, by which time the witch had departed and a desk had risen out of the floor with paper, an ink well and two quills resting on it. Harry eyed the desk for a moment before he reluctantly crossed and cracked open the first page. Three hours later he was stopped by the witch who took his papers and departed while the desk, quills and ink disappeared back into the floor. Harry shuffled into his original corner and closed his eyes automatically dropping into the sleeping room he'd constructed beneath the spectator stands. Not even dementors could reach Harry in his sleeping room. A meal and much sleeping later Harry was faced by his second exam, Transfiguration. After that the exams seemed to blur into an inseparable mass. Harry emptied his brain onto those pages with a vague hope that maybe he'd scrape an OWL or two and be able to go back to Hogwarts should Tom's optimistic claims of eventual freedom actually occur.

**XXXXXX**

Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, stared at the file in front of himself and tried to think of an explanation...he discovered that hurt and promptly flooed Lucius Malfoy.

"Minister?"

"Potter passed his OWLs." The words sounded as wrong as they'd appeared on the page.

"I'm sure you can deem a couple of Acceptable OWLs expired in a couple of years...expel him then." Lucius Malfoy was not impressed.

"He didn't get a couple of acceptables." Fudge's tone was tight. "He passed every subject Hogwarts offers even the ones he wasn't enrolled in."

"Make him resit, he obviously cheated."

"Thank you, Lucius, I'll arrange for that immediately...and the failing of every practical section. I shouldn't have agreed for the acceptable average on practicals since he can't do them."

"Certainly not, Minister." The call ended and a very satisfied Fudge got to work, unaware that Lucius Malfoy had flooed Severus Snape within seconds to mention the intention to make Potter re-sit his OWL exams. It was a headache Fudge would not forget for many, many years.

**XXXXXX**

"Harry, Harry, Harry." Tom's highly amused voice disturbed Harry from his laps and he swore rather badly as he realised that he'd lost count. "Harry!" Tom actually managed to sound slightly shocked.

"You made me lose count."

"I'm sure your tiny little brain can remember which batch of hundred you were in. Start from there."

"Eight hundred." Harry slumped down with a sigh, closed his eyes and settled comfortably into his usual chair in Tom's library. "Over eight-fifty."

"What if I'd wanted to play Quidditch?" Tom crossed to sit in his usual chair with an expression of polite curiousity.

"It's raining today and I know Slytherins hate playing in the rain."

"What did you fix your weather too?" Tom was frowning slightly, there was altogether too much rain on Harry's Quidditch Pitch for his taste.

"Dementors. Means I know if it's safe to wake up without actually having to wake up." Harry had grabbed a book which he'd been slowly working through.

"Well, I've got some news that might interest you." Tom was almost smiling and that worried Harry rather badly.

"Oh?"

"OWL results."

"OWL results?" Harry blinked for a moment. "I actually get notified that I failed everything abysmally?"

"No." Tom's almost smile widened. "You do however get notified that you received more OWLs than the Weasley twins combined."

"Eh?" Harry stared at the man in stunned disbelief.

"Even with the Minister insisting that you carry a fail mark for all practical exams, you actually managed an EE in DADA, Divination, History of Magic and Muggle Studies. A in Charms, Potions and Transfiguration...there was some debate, but you also received acceptable for Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Astronomy and Herbology."

"I passed every subject that Hogwarts offers?" Harry stared at Tom in blank confusion. "I never even took Runes or Arithmancy."

"Remember our discussion about Astrology...the one concerning the how and why?"

"That covered enough Ancient Runes to pass a Runes OWL?" Harry blinked.

"Also probably part of why you passed Arithmancy...you did spend a month on an aspect of Astrology which is considered to be post-NEWTs study. The rest of the Arithmancy is probably tied into that Potions notation I showed you...which definitely was a post-NEWTs method...Severus has said that you have an option for NEWTs Potions when you get out of here...but he does reserve the right to make your life living hell if you don't take it seriously."

"He already did make that subject living hell."

"Rubbish." Tom gave a snort. "You were bone lazy about Potions, Potter...and you proved that when you mastered equillibria technicia in less than a day."

"Is that meant to be hard?" Harry pondered for a moment as he mentally considered the topic Tom mentioned.

"It's post-NEWTs topic and the core behind blind brewing." Tom gave a slight shrug. "Severus won't expect miracles from you since he knows perfectly well that you will never become a brewer...but he will be expecting you to take it seriously."

"And you've told him I managed equillibria technicia in a day." Harry slumped in his chair. "Could you ask him for some advance reading for me?"

"Already done and I'll have the books ready for you tomorrow." For a period there was silence in the library.

"Thanks." The word seemed to simply hover in the air.

"For what?"

"Helping me study for them." Harry lifted his head and gave a tired smile. "I realised last week that you must have known months in advance I was going to be facing them. You took the time to make sure I studied enough. You made sure I read the right books. You asked the questions to make sure I thought the right way."

"You're not mad that I didn't tell you?"

"Wouldn't have changed anything except that I'd have probably worried and not achieved as much study." Harry gave a small shrug. "I've got a bit of a feeling that you're somehow behind it."

"I was testing the waters." Tom spoke after a long silence. "Fudge was the person who authorised your OWLs. Fudge authorised it because a certain muggle prime minister had a tactical gloat about standard education and how all citizens of the United Kingdom can receive it. Lucius Malfoy then tactfully murmured into Fudge's shell-like little ear the tactical advantage of you failing your OWLs and thus not being able to enter any school after your release in seventy-five years time...thus damning you to a life of menial labour."

"Why?" Harry had pondered the complicated batch of sentances for several moments, on the surface it seemed a matter of simple insults and an effort to undermine him. Words and actions did not match, therefore there had to be more behind the words...even if Tom was a Slytherin and had to hide his actions under an impenetrable layer of cunning.

"Now we have a very basic precedent that the Ministry of Magic is as good as the muggle parliament."

"You think you can get me out of here using muggle legalities?" Harry stared at Tom in utter astonishment. "Thankyou very much for explaining to me so frankly...even if for the life of me I do not understand at all."

"At the very least I can get Fudge so mired in muggle politics that Lucius will force a change out of sheer distaste. Anyone in politics knows that if they guarantee your release as part of their pre-election promises they'll be in with a landslide victory...which means that every two bit politician will be promising your release and amazing amounts of reparative gold."

"I'll set up a were-wolf centre and a wizarding orphanage if I'm given reparative gold." Harry gave a slightly twisted smile. "There's bound to be a way to make them reasonably self-subsisting.

**XXXXXX**

"I have good news for you, Mr Potter." Tom's tone held a marked note of ticked off which intimated that his news was nothing of the sort.

"Oh?" Harry blinked slightly over the sudden transition between his cell and his quidditch pitch, he really did need to remember to lock his 'door' so there had to be a knock and an admission before he could be so summarily yanked around in his own mind.

"I am officially ceasing any and all homicidal attacks upon your person."

"Does that extend to my friends as well?"

"Depressingly enough it actually seems to extend to the entirety of sentient life on the planet." Tom's expression was downright sour.

"Recent onset of this disability?" Harry pitched the quaffle loftily across to where Tom was hovering.

"No bloody idea." Tom seized the quaffle and sent it back with interest.

"I thought you said the homicidal activities were at an end?" Harry rubbed his midrift cautiously and considered what to do with the quaffle in retaliation.

"Hero of the wizarding world, killed by a quaffle." Tom gave a snort of amusement, then yelped for the quaffle had hit him in the head. "Lay off the homicidal efforts yourself."

"I have always acted in the strictest laws of self-defence." Harry gave a sniff. "So, what's with the lack of homicidal intent and your ignorance over it's onset?"

"I've been occupied for the past year." Tom's tone was offended. "I'll have you know that the only sentients I've injured since you entered your current comodious environment are my own minions who are too homocidal to safely keep alive."

"So over half of them." Harry didn't even attempt to conceal his amusement.

"Less than a quarter of them, the rest act under leverage...though I'm not discussing how much of that leverage was real and how much they imagined...though there's a decent number under leverage from their own family."

"So, how'd you find out?"

"One of the recent graduates decided things needed stirring...there's a handful of obliviated muggles sleeping it off and I'm afraid the idiot and his fellows are currently discovering that St Mungoes doesn't care about blood purity when you're assigned a bed in long-term spell-damage. I only saw them and all I knew was a sense of boredom and distaste...it's a very distressing strait for a Dark Lord to end up in."

"Well, to cheer you up, what's the bad news you implied by calling that good news?"

"Oh, that." Tom gave a shrug. "You'll not be getting back into Gryffindor when you return to Hogwarts."

"The fact you no longer make me incadescent with rage simply by existing made me suspect I could no longer be a Gryffindor...had a hard enough time talking the hat out of Slytherin the first time around." Harry rolled his eyes and then vanished the quaffle before eyeing Tom speculatively. "The fact that you're telling me means you have a theory on why."

"A theory." Tom wrinkled his nose and produced bludgers to enliven their existance. He certainly did have his theories on what had happened, but bludgers were safer than the idea that their link, so heavily used these past months, was now permanent and causing change in their individual brains to achieve a median state of common humanity.

**XXXXXX**


	5. Chapter 5

**Epilogue:**

Fudge gazed angrily at the people who had destroyed his coup, they crowded together on the edge of the dock, jostling each other as they sought to get first look at the boy. Fudge knew an emotion of pure hatred as his gaze settled on the pallid, wraithlike boy who was rather forcibly pushed onto the dock. Fudge had worked hard his entire life to reach his place and yet this repulsive whelp with no respect or appreciation of what he had, bore power which could unseat Merlin himself...and all for something he would never remember and could never be explained. Fifty years of bloody hard-work utterly destroyed by a miserable scrap of idiocy who couldn't even keep his blood to himself.

Azkaban had not been kind to Harry James Potter, anyone could see there was going to be a brutal period of recuperation. Potter was down by at least half his body-weight, his eyes shielded from the sunlight he had not seen in eighteen months and his pallor sufficient to draw admiring sighs from a vampire. Potter's gait was stiff and uncertain, but he clearly had a goal for all he couldn't see a thing.

"Thankyou." No one could have said who was more surprised, the recipient of Potter's hug, or the massed people who had been hoping for a hug and recognition. Tom Marvolo Riddle's expression was frozen, his form rigid and his eyes starting slightly.

"N-no problem." Riddle hastily handed the boy over to Dumbledore before waving Snape over. "He needs worming, bacterial restabilisation and a nutrient potion."

"Sir." Snape rather cautiously approached Potter, who had escaped the Weasleys and reattached himself in a rather limpet-like manner to Riddle.

"Why that order?" Potter's green eyes weren't focussing properly Snape noted as the dark glasses slid down the grubby nose.

"First we get rid of the worms in your gut." Snape handed over the first potion. "You can't afford to share what little you'll be capable of eating over the next few months." Snape took back the vial and handed over a second. "Bacterial stabilisation minimises competition for your food and maximises your ability to get what you need out of that food." Snape took back the second vial and checked his watch. "Nutrient potion is to remind your body what it actually requires to function and maximises what you get while minimising what you actually imbibe. Specifically focussed on someone who has been short of food for an extended period." Snape checked his watch again, watched it with a slight frown for almost half a minute and then handed Potter the third potion.

"Thankyou, sir." Potter handed back the vial and clamped a little more firmly onto Riddle for the man had attempted to escape while Potter was distracted by the exchange with the Potions Master.

"Who's he hanging onto?" The question fell in a strange lull in the numerous conversations and Snape noted that Potter stiffened. Not that Snape wasn't similarly curious, Potter was behaving as if the Dark Lord was his father not a former arch-enemy.

"Is he a wizard?" The query came from somewhere else and it seemed to break a dam for a torrent of questions came crashing forth.

"You didn't tell them, sir?" Potter's slightly off gaze was firmly fixed on Riddle.

"No." Riddle's tone was curt.

"Then..." Potter stopped and blinked. "They let you come without knowing anything beyond the fact that you were behind Fudge's back-down?"

"Dumbledore vouched for my presence." Riddle grimaced faintly. "Though possibly he's worried about what I'd do if he hadn't vouched for me."

"Oh." Potter blinked twice and then gave a shrug. "Thankyou for coming, sir."

"Who is he?" The frustrated query came from Ron Weasley, but it went unanswered as Fudge had decided it was time to exert his control over the situation.

"Now, there's the question of Mr Potter's place of residence." Fudge fully intended to get Potter into Ministry control on the simple grounds that the boy had no blood relatives left and was too young to be let live alone.

"Potter stays with me." Riddle's curt tone stunned everyone into silence.

"But..." Molly Weasley frowned in confusion. "What grounds?"

"Blood." Riddle's calm response drew a snort from Potter. Dumbledore seemed more than a trifle staggered and everyone else was simply looking confused.

"There are no other Potters left alive." The observation came from one side. "Harry's the last one."

"Why does everyone forget the fact that I had a mother?" Harry mumbled the observation into Riddle's sleeve.

"Because they're idiots." Snape took the opportunity of Potter looking up in surprise to force another potion on the boy. It was a second nutrient potion. Harry promptly buried his face again with an indistinguishable mumble about dungeon bats.

"A simple test at Gringotts will confirm my claim as the closest blood relative alive." Riddle brought the talk back on topic before frowning down at Potter, who was helplessly giggling. "Calming potion, Severus?"

"With pleasure." Snape pounced on the boy and had a potion down his throat in less than a second.

"Yuck." Potter scowled at both men.

"Preferable to those insane giggles." Riddle gave a sniff and then glanced around the accumulated people. "We're leaving now. You will see us again when Potter is ready to return to Hogwarts." Riddle pulled both Potter and Snape close before he simply apparated away.

"How can he possibly be related to Potter by blood?" Fudge had grabbed Dumbledore by the sleeve.

"Fudge?" Dumbledore's expression was one of pure confusion.

"How can that man claim a blood connection to the Potter line?" Fudge was on the verge of gibbering. "I checked days ago and there is no living blood relative inside of a four generation removal."

"Regrettably enough, Minister, the man spoke nothing but the truth...Tom Riddle's blood connection to Potter is actually closer than Harry's own parents." Dumbledore's tone was rather cold. "Now, if you don't mind, we have the press to deal with...and I suggest you make it sound like Riddle got custody due to his exemplary conduct and dedication to freeing Harry from Azkaban...you will look a fair fool if you even imply that Riddle stole the boy from under your nose."

"What is your problem?" Fudge was frowning, he had never seen such a worried Dumbledore in his life.

"Well, it may have slipped your memory, but Tom Riddle was the name Voldemort was given at birth by his mother. How do you think we're going to explain it to the press when the man successfully completes the murder he began in 1981?"

"..." Fudge's mouth flapped uncertainly for several moments. "Why didn't you say something before?"

"You've been too busy denying the man's return to hear anything." Dumbledore almost felt sorry for the pudgy minister. Infact he would feel sorry for the man, but for the fact that he was too busy feeling sorry for himself. How had they been so stupid as to allow this utter disaster to occur?

XXXXXX


End file.
